The Fight for the Argonne: Personal Experiences of a 'Y' ManWest, William Benjamin
History
The Fight for the Argonne: Personal Experiences of a 'Y' Man
West, William Benjamin
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
The infantry is the most mobile of any division of the army. Men can
go where horses and guns find it impossible. They can file silently
through narrow passes or a maze of forest trees and underbrush. They
can scale cliffs. They can dodge shell-holes and negotiate muddy roads
and morasses. They can move slowly or quickly at will and can
therefore take difficult positions where it is impossible quickly to
bring up artillery support.
The Ohio boys were in the line exposed to the merciless and cruel
machine-gun and artillery fire of the enemy. It was said that the
Germans had one machine gun for every two of our rifles. The conflict
was desperate. The enemy realized that their cause depended upon
their practical annihilation of the American troops. These fighters,
who with such courage and disregard of danger had taken this part of
the impregnable Hindenburg line, now threatened their supporting
lines. It is no disgrace to acknowledge that during those awful
initial days of the Argonne drive we paid the price that an army
advancing must pay. Of course it was heart-breaking to see the long
lines of our stretcher-bearers coming out of that belching brimstone
line with the punctured and broken bodies of our boys. But it was
glorious to know that the line had not wavered. _How long could they
last?_ And how speedily could artillery be brought to their aid? These
were the momentous questions that quivered on every lip and that gave
imperative urgency to the commands and appeals of the officers who
watched with choking emotion the slaughter of "their boys."
As we gazed over the valley we saw to the left a line of
slow-crawling tanks. They were about as long as Ford cars and as tall
as a man. They were the French "baby tanks" coming up to help our boys
clean out the machine-gun nests. It was perfectly fascinating and
almost uncanny to watch tanks in action. There was no visible sign of
life or power, nor any seeming direction to their motion. They crawled
stealthily along, bowling over bushes or small trees or flattening out
wire entanglements. Steep banks or deep gulleys were taken or crossed
with equal ease. As a tank would creep up the side of a ridge it
seemed to poise momentarily on the crest, the front part extending out
into space until the center of gravity was passed, when the whole tank
plunged down headlong. We instinctively held our breath until we saw
it crawling away on the opposite side.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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